


Furlough

by glitchvoice



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitchvoice/pseuds/glitchvoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John hasn’t had access to a phone in six weeks, but there’s an email waiting for him as soon as he gets back to base: <i>Come over as soon as you’re back. Thinking of you. Jessica</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Furlough

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't given much thought to Jessica and Reese until I read [Astolat's headcanon post](http://astolat.tumblr.com/post/45205594359/stoppretendingthereisaplot-i-dont-think-these) about them being in a D/s relationship. Then this fic just seemed to show up as if from nowhere. Not remotely as D/s as originally intended, but there you go. 
> 
>  

John hasn’t had access to a phone in six weeks, but there’s an email waiting for him as soon as he gets back to base: _Come over as soon as you’re back. Thinking of you. Jessica._ So he shaves against the grain, grabs some spare civilian clothes from his locker, and calls a cab.  
  
Arriving at her house, he realizes belatedly that he’d forgotten to call ahead. Jessica answers the door in sweatpants and soft-looking grey sweater, eyes widening as she takes in John’s wrinkled and obviously un-laundered shirt; the cab loitering outside. ‘Oh! John -- ‘  
  
‘You said to come as soon as I got back,’ he says awkwardly, ready to be sent away.  
  
‘Of course I did,’ she says, and pulls him into a hug. ‘Did you just arrive today?’  
  
‘Couple hours ago,’ he admits, and Jessica draws him into the house, her fingers warm around his wrist. On the way here he’d been picturing picking her up for a date, opening the door for her like a chauffeur. That plainly isn’t going to happen, but the last few weeks have gotten him so turned around he’s amazed he even remembered how to get here in the first place.  
  
‘How long can you stay?’ she asks, and John realizes he hadn’t even slowed down long enough to pack an overnight bag. Jessica must see something in his eyes, because she squeezes his wrist and presses up against him in the hallway, kissing him softly and guiding his hands around her waist. ‘We can talk about that later,’ she says.  
  
*  
  
John isn’t exactly an expert, but he knows that Jessica’s never done this before either. He may be a small town guy, but he’s not an idiot. Getting bossed around in the sack isn’t usually accompanied by having your hair washed for you in the hotel bathtub the next day, or waking up with a list of grocery requests written on the back of your hand, or any of the hundred other things Jessica has done for him.  
  
The morning after he shows up on Jessica’s doorstep, he wakes up to find that she’s already showered and dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed to buckle her shoes.  
  
‘Do you want me to -- ‘ he begins, sitting up, but she leans over the bed and silences him with a kiss. Her hair falls in a golden curtain around their faces, and John feels suddenly exposed as the buttons of her suit jacket brush across his bare skin.  
  
‘John, if I wanted you to do anything, I’d have woken you up already.’ She slides her hand up the back of his neck, combing her fingers through his hair. ‘I have to go to work for a few hours, but there’s food in the kitchen if you want anything.’ John shivers into her hand, and relaxes back against the headboard. ‘Will you be here when I get back?’  
  
John looks up at her, eyebrows raised, and she laughs. ‘Yeah, OK, just checking,’ she says, and leaves.  
  
Jessica must have put perfume on just before going out, because the bedroom and bathroom smell just like her. In the kitchen, John opens cupboards and drawers like he’s looking for clues, trying to imagine what Jessica is like when she’s here by herself. She's barely mentioned her friends to him except in passing, but John assumes there are many. Jessica, with her calm, smiling self-assurance, is impossible to dislike. She probably has people over all the time.  
  
Eventually he settles on a box of mixed fruit cookies and a yogurt with a picture of a smiling cartoon cow on the packaging. For whatever reason, he gets a kick out of how adult and organised Jessica’s kitchen is. John’s apartment, such as it is, has barely changed in the seven years he’s owned it: a bed, a gun locker, a TV he doesn’t use, a few books, and a stash of the kind of enthusiastically American junk food he can’t get hold of when he’s out of the country.  
  
Jessica's landline rings, and John freezes. For a split second he imagines answering a call from Jessica’s mother, who doesn’t (and probably never will) know that he even exists. But the call goes to voicemail: Jessica’s own voice, saying, ‘John?’  
  
He picks up. ‘Forget your keys?’ he asks, wry at the domesticity of it.  
  
‘That won’t be a problem if you’re still around when I get home, will it? No, I just called to say... there’s some stuff you might want to look at in the top right drawer of my dressing table.' She hesitates. 'If you like.’ Something she didn’t want to mention last night, then.

‘OK,’ says John.

‘Think about it. We can talk when I get home.’  
  
‘OK,’ John says again, and Jessica laughs quietly.  
  
‘You’ve got a great phone manner, John. You should be doing my job.’  
  
‘See you later,’ he says, and she hangs up.  
  
Thinking, _my dressing table_ , John half expects it to be something sexual. A strap-on, maybe. But when he goes to look, it’s just a sheaf of printouts and magazine cuttings. Ads for resorts in Mexico, special offer coupons for out-of-season flight deals... oh.  
  
By the time he’s finished looking through Jessica’s haphazard scrapbook of vacation ideas and budget notes, he’s already picturing what it would be like. Freckles appearing across the bridge of Jessica’s nose, and John making himself useful because she can’t speak Spanish. The sense of purpose he feels when he’s with her, combined with the lassitude of having more than a 48-hour stretch before he has to be back on a plane to somewhere classified. _Think about it_ , Jessica said, and yeah. He’s thinking about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [glitchvoice](http://glitchvoice.tumblr.com/). Twitter @glitchvoice.


End file.
